Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Tuvalu and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1963 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing Beasts of Bourbon to the punk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by Erykah Badu. All the underground hits.
All The United States of America tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Roxette record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Freddie Wadling record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Angry Samoans,
Gang Starr,
K-Klass,
Amazonics,
Technova,
Jimmy McGriff,
Sun Ra,
Scientists,
Jacob Miller,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
The Misunderstood,
Quadrant,
The Saints,
John Foxx,
The Kinks,
Colin Newman,
Ultra Naté,
The Dead C,
Popol Vuh,
EPMD,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Pulsallama,
David McCallum,
Barrington Levy,
Khruangbin,
MC5,
The Remains,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Selecter,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Lou Reed,
The Cowsills,
Eve St. Jones,
James White and The Blacks,
Dual Sessions,
Sunsets and Hearts,
E-Dancer,
Siglo XX,
Soft Cell,
Ponytail,
Crime,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Mummies,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Los Fastidios,
Sarah Menescal,
Moebius,
The Standells,
The Star Department,
Television,
Gang of Four,
Jacques Brel,
T.S.O.L.,
Marcia Griffiths,
Morten Harket,
Lower 48,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Jeff Lynne,
Brothers Johnson,
the Swans, the Swans, the Swans, the Swans.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.